Love and Hate
by DarkestAngellic
Summary: Just short bits and pieces from the many years Vincent and Chaos have spent together, both willingly and not.


_**Disclaimer**__**: I own nothing from FFVII, not the settings, not the characters, not the names. Nothing. I own absolutely nothing. It is all the property of the wonderful Square Enix.**_

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**_001 - Stronger_**

Their first meeting comes after Vincent acquainted himself with the other - lesser - three. His introduction to Chaos involves the WEAPON all but tearing a hole in Vincent's mentality to make himself comfortable, just because he can.  
It's a show of dominance, a demonstration of who is at the top of the pecking order. It most certainly isn't Vincent.

**_002 - Protomateria_**  
She isn't quite sure what happens to Vincent during the… episodes where his body is out of control when he's writhing and screaming and in obvious pain with no origin. There are no wounds on his person, the Mako makes certain of that. Was he perhaps rejecting the Chaos Gene? No, no it had taken completely. He had been stable for months with no sign of deterioration. So what was the cause behind… _this_?  
It's Chaos in the tank, it has to be, a winged monster with claws and fangs too. It can't possibly be Vincent.  
_I'm so sorry. I couldn't just let you die!_  
It was this thing causing the pain, she was sure of it. A belief confirmed when gazes meet. The look of pure _loathing_ at odds with the manic grin sends a chill down her spine and she unconsciously takes a step backward. She hadn't just introduced the Chaos Gene to Vincent's system, she'd forced _THE_ Chaos of Cetra prophecy into Vincent's body.  
A body altered beyond that of the Turk's and battering at the tank. No! He couldn't get free! She wasn't finished. She still had so much to do! A son to bring into the world and hold, a thesis to complete!  
"Stop! Stop it! Vincent, please!" Only it's not Vincent. There's no part of him there, only the demon. But she wasn't ready to die, she couldn't die, not yet.  
The Planet itself must hear her pleas, for in a flash of light a rather large ball of materia is formed. So big, in fact, that she has to hold it in both hands. The monster quiets when she touches it. Is this…? Does this… what power must this materia hold to… _control_ him? What to name it?

**_003 - Aerith_**  
_Valentine let me out._  
_No._  
_You need my help._  
_You'll kill everyone._  
_And yet if you don't let me out you're dead._  
_I can't just -_  
_Oh for fuck's sake!_ Darkness slicks around the injured gunman's form, ruby light flashing through small gaps as bones creak and snap into different formation, wings tearing through the flesh of his back as clothing melts away in favour of black leather and red armour. Again comes the whistle of air upon metal and left arm comes up in time to halt another attempt at cleaving. There are alarmed shouts from the group already weary from their battles with the Dorky Faces, a flash of panic beneath the glaze of Confusion in the blonde's bright eyes. Chaos tightens his claws upon the sword's blade to score gouges into the metal, muscles tensing as he pits his strength against that of the enhanced mortal. The weapon remains frustratingly close to his head for several long moments before the other's grip wavers with a grunt of surprise and exertion.  
One mighty heave later has the idiot swordsman leaving a sizeable dent in the aged wall panelling, a quick glance at each of his companions dismissing their level of danger to his person and so he stalks towards the blonde man. He means to put a few bruises on that face and perhaps break his sword arm, but moving towards him carries Chaos past the girl smelling of earth and flowers.  
_Pain_. Deep, burning pain in his wing. He spins, enraged snarl twisting his features as he rounds on her, but that moment of pain is enough distraction for Vincent to seize back control.  
Aerith Gainsborough was a Holy lady, and that day she'd touched him… how her handprint wasn't burned onto the membrane of his wing he'll never know.  
Foolish of her, but very brave. She was one of few to have Chaos' respect.

**_004 - Complicated_**  
Galian is… a friend of sorts. Simple, loyal and rarely demanding of control of the body.  
Death Gigas is silent and… somewhat dumb. He needs constant supervision and direction, else he attacks comrades as well as foes.  
Hellmasker, though intelligent, is unstable. A cold-blooded murderer who makes art of his victims. Hellmasker he could handle. Just point him in the direction of enemies and give him a few hours to butcher away to his black heart's content.  
Chaos… Vincent couldn't get a read on him. He was a difficult on, with intelligence on par with that of humans, and instincts far superior. A killing machine with logical plots to outwit his prey and a penchant for duelling with Vincent in a battle of wit and word. He enjoyed causing torment. He thrived on his namesake. He scared Vincent, in truth, and he hated the demon for it.  
_Love you, too, Valentine._  
_Cork it._  
_Make me._

**_005 - Play_**  
_Come on, Valentine, let me out. I only want -_  
_No._  
_Her pranks annoy you, Host. I feel your irritation. I'd only be giving her a taste of her own medicine._  
_No._ It takes more effort than he likes to close the mental door on Chaos, laughter echoing around in his skull for minutes after. the demon is whispered sweetness with a poison centre. Vincent knows all too well that any prank Chaos could formulate would prove fatal for Yuffie.  
Demons did _not_, after all, play nicely with the fragile mortals.


End file.
